


Wise men say

by ElisAttack



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Barista Derek, Christmas, Christmas Presents, Established Relationship, Fanart, Fluff and Smut, M/M, New York City
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 18:46:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5551268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElisAttack/pseuds/ElisAttack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where there’s Coney Island, presents, and snuggles by the fire.</p>
<p>Or a Gift of the Magi AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wise men say

**Author's Note:**

> This was made for the The Sterek Secret Santa Gift Exchange over on Tumblr, it was my first year signing up for it, but it's soooo much fun. 
> 
> Enjoy.

 

 

[Tumblr link to art](http://iamonlydancing.tumblr.com/post/136047592887)

 

_The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication._  

\- The Gift of the Magi by O. Henry

***

The glowing crimson numbers read 3AM when Stiles slides into bed behind Derek.  He knows Stiles is moving slowly, so not to disturb him, but Derek's been awake since two when their neighbour's fucking pomeranian began yapping like a bat straight out of hell.

"Stiles?"  Derek mumbles, blindly reaching behind him for his husband.

"Sorry, baby,"  Stiles whispers, and Derek hisses as he climbs into bed, pressing his cold body along Derek's.  "Marsha's taking maternity so I'm covering her shifts."

"That's not on our whiteboard."  Derek grumbles, snuggling closer, hoping Stiles warms up quickly.  They can't turn the heat up because it makes their bill shoot through the roof.  There's a leak in the apartment and until the landlord gets around to fixing it, they have heaping tonnes of blankets.  All of them wedding gifts from Stiles' Californian relatives, afraid he was freezing his butt off in New York, no matter that he's been living in the city since moving after high-school.

"Her water broke in the mail room and our manager drove her since she can't afford an ambulance."  Stiles smacks his lips sleepily,  "I'll post my new schedule in the morning." 

Stiles presses a soft kiss to the skin behind Derek's ear, his lips are freezing, and if Derek wasn't bone tired he would flip around and give Stiles a kiss to warm him up.  He doesn't even remember the last time they shared a proper kiss, one that wasn't just a peck as they headed out the door for the day.  Derek to the train, Stiles on his bike.  Instead, Derek scoots closer to Stiles, hoping to fall back to sleep, he has an early shift tomorrow and wants to wake up on time.  Their fingers tangle together, slung over Derek's stomach, and Derek settles.

***

Stiles is snoring beside him when his alarm rings, and Derek quickly shuts it off.  There's a puddle of drool on Stiles' pillow and he can do nothing but smile.  He's has always been a heavy sleeper.  Derek runs a soft hand down Stiles' back, chuckling lowly when he mumbles something about curly fries in his sleep.

Derek's washing his face when he finds Stiles' precious iPhone 6 in the bathroom.  He won it a few weeks ago at an employee raffle at the hotel and hasn't put it down since.  Unfortunately, it still doesn't have anything protecting it but a shitty dollar store case.  Stiles is so afraid of dropping and breaking it, he's been handling it like manna from heaven.  But, considering he's a walking deathtrap waiting to happen, his fears are extremely founded.

Derek quickly throws on his uniform and heads out the door wrapped in his warm leather jacket.  He bought it sixteen years ago on his eighteenth birthday as a coming of age gift to himself.  He worked his ass off for nearly a year so he could afford the expensive Burberry leather, he's grateful that it still fits him, not matter how tight the shoulders are getting.

Sadly, the leather is showing signs of wear, and is in desperate need of repair.  But he can't afford to get it taken to a specialist, so all he can do is watch sadly as the leather slowly deteriorates.

There's a few inches of snow on the ground that wasn't there last night when he turned in.  Derek sweeps the pile of snow off the tarp covering Stiles' bicycle, making life easier for his husband.  Derek hopes Stiles will be alright during the thirty minute commute.  He feels guilty sitting on the warm train while Stiles braves the cold, but they could only afford one MetroCard a month, and Derek's commute is much further. 

He works as a barista in a fairly popular coffee joint in SoHo.  It's a long distance from their small bachelors apartment in Queens, but the rent is about five times more expensive in SoHo.  Sometimes, when Stiles comes back home in the middle of the night, cheeks red from the cold, eyes and nose runny from the icy wind, Derek wishes they could afford an apartment in Manhattan.  Especially when Stiles wants to take a soak in a hot bath, but can't because he would lose precious sleep when he has to get up early for a shift.

Derek thumbs his silver wedding ring, the same one Stiles wears.  They belonged to Stiles' parents, and it was the happiest day of Derek's life when John handed them over because it meant, without a doubt, that John had accepted Derek as his son-in-law. 

He can't help but feel like he's letting John down by allowing Stiles to live in such squalor.  There's just not much he can do about it, short of getting a new, better paying job.  But when he talked to Stiles about applying to work in an office, Stiles shut him down.  He knows just how much Derek loves being a barista, just as Derek knows how much Stiles loves working at the Plaza Hotel. 

They both love their jobs, Derek just wishes they paid better.

He dusts the snow off his shoulders, walking into the warm cafe.  The sound of crackling fills the cozy space, Erica must have lit the wood stove. 

He finds her in the back, prepping the pastries for the day, her arms elbow deep in flour.  When she sees him she rolls her eyes and tosses his apron over, Marin's Coffee printed on the front, "start chopping peaches,"  she orders.

He salutes her and when she laughs, he shoots her a grin.  

They work in companionable silence for a while, but when the last danish is out of the oven, Erica leans against the counter.

"What are you getting Stiles for the Holidays?"  She asks.

Derek shrugs, turning off the tap and drying his hands on a nearby towel.  "I haven't really thought about it yet."

"You two have been married for five years. It should be special.  You know what they say about year five, it's when you figure out if you're going to be buried together.  For eternity.  _Eternity_ , Derek.  Forget marriage, rotting in the ground side by side, _that's_ a commitment."

"I'm pretty sure our corpses wouldn't care about anything but worms,"  Derek quirks a brow,  "besides, Stiles and I are doing fine."

Erica smiles, "I know.  I'm just joking.  You two are the reason I believe in true love.  I was your best woman, remember?"

"Still are."  Derek raises his fist and Erica pumps it like when they were kids.  They grew up together Upstate, but never grew out of their childhood friendship.  His mom used to think they would get married, but then Derek came out at sixteen and ruined all her plans.  She got over it quickly enough, and went back to planning Derek's wedding, except with more rainbows and unicorn themed paraphernalia.  She was very disappointed when John hired a wedding planner.

"To tell you the truth, I don't know what to get him.  I can't afford much, but I know Stiles would be happy with anything."  He pauses, sighing heavily, "I just want to give him something he will really appreciate, no matter the cost."

Erica hums, "Marin's giving us bonuses, but I don't think I will be an excessive amount, she still has to pay rent like the rest of us mortals.  I'm sure you'll figure something out, Derek, you always do."  Erica carries a tray of pastries to the front of the shop, and Derek helps her place them in the case before moving to get the coffee machines warmed up.

When she slides the final croissant tray into the case, Derek unlocks the door and flips the sign, finding the first of many bleary-eyed customers lined up, waiting to get their seasonal peppermint flavoured fix. 

Derek smiles at the regulars when they wish him a good morning.  He loves being a barista.

***

Halfway through the day, clouds suddenly fill the sky and snow falls like a maelstrom.  Derek doesn't want Stiles to bike home in this weather, so after work he sends Stiles a quick text.  Wrapping himself up tightly in his outerwear, he makes sure everything but his eyes and nose are covered.  The storm is brutal, the wind rattling against the thin panes of the shop, making the building's old bones creak.  Erica has a sedan, so he's not too worried about her.  Boyd bought her snow tires last year. 

Just before he leaves, Stiles sends him a confirmation text, saying he'll wait for Derek at the hotel.  He braves the cold and walks the few blocks to the subway.  The winds are strong, buffering against the soft leather of his jacket, and Derek is glad he keeps a warm sweater at work for days like these.  The leather may look good, but without the sweater underneath, it wouldn't hold up against the bitter cold.

The train is warm though, and halfway through the ride he gives up his seat for an older man who wishes him a very happy Hanukkah, Derek smiles and nods politely, wishing the man back.

Derek will never tire of seeing the Plaza Hotel in person.  It's a New York City monument, great, big, and beautiful, he understands why Stiles loves it so.  He works in the mail room, a major step up from his first job as a bellhop when they were still dating.  Stiles loves his job, Derek though?  Derek loves the uniform, and he's unashamed to say that in the early stages of their relationship he asked Stiles to leave it on during sex an innumerable amount of times.

He texted Stiles when he got off the train, so when he walks to the employee entrance at the back, the door swings open to reveal his husband in his usual waistcoat and dress pants.  A sight which never fails to send a spike of heat directly to Derek's groin.  Stiles ushers him in, quickly unwrapping the scarf from Derek's face.  Kissing his cheek, he weaves their fingers together.  He seems happier than usual, and Derek can't help but let Stiles' good mood infect his.  His fingers were freezing, but Stiles warms them within minutes.

"C'mon,"  Stiles grips his hand tighter, pulling him through the corridors, down to the kitchens.  He's only been in the hotel a few times before, but Stiles obviously belongs, weaving his way through the building's many corridors, knowing them like the back of his hand, "I have something to tell you."  Stiles says, sending him a smile.

"Something good, I hope?"  Derek asks.

Stiles breaks out a wide grin, "Something amazing.  But first, Lydia promised me left over crème brûlée from the dinner set, so we're eating that first.

Derek salivates at the thought.

The moment after Stiles places the crème brûlée in front of him, he breaks Derek's sugar coating with the back of his spoon, grinning at the loud crack.  He makes an apologetic face when Derek glares at him,  "Sorry, I just like doing that so much."

Derek huffs, digging in anyway.  They're in the brightly lit kitchens, sitting off to the side at a small round table.  The dining hall is closed, but room service is still open.  Occasionally a sous-chef or two appears and starts whipping up expensive snacks for the guests who can afford the four digit a night price for a room.

Derek sees so much sturgeon caviar leave the kitchen, he can't help but think eating a dirty sock would be more pleasant.  And cheaper.

"You're telling me that one ounce of that stuff, plus a leafy decoration of some kind, and five fucking soda crackers costs one hundred dollars?"

Stiles nods, laughing as he taps his silver spoon on the edge of an empty ramekin, "A senator stayed in the presidential suit a few weeks ago, and Lydia said he called for five ounces every single night for his weeklong stay.  The kitchen nearly ran out."

Derek's eyes widen as he sits back in his chair, hands folded over his stomach. "Holy shit," he remarks.

Stiles chuckles before waving him closer, "You have some cream on your lip."

"And you didn't even put it there,"  Derek jokes, smiling smugly when Stiles turns a deep red, sputtering.  Derek licks his lip, slowly for Stiles' benefit.  "Soo..."  he drawls,  "You have yet to tell me the good news?"

Stiles rips his heavy gaze away from Derek's lips, meeting his eyes, pupils blown.  "Apparently Jonah's retiring next year, and my boss promised me the front desk."  Stiles says his voice rough but pleased.

Derek blinks and a long moment passes in silence before he says, stilted, "that's so wonderful, Stiles."  He tries to smile and appear like Stiles didn't just say he's going to be working even longer hours.  He knows he failed miserably when Stiles' grin falls from his face and he frowns.

"Why aren't you happy for me?"

Derek swallows, "I am."  His eyebrows dip, thinking of how he's supposed to bring this up without it escalating into a fight.  "You're just never home, and with the promotion, you won't be even more so.  It feels like I _never_ see you."

"We need this, Der."  Stiles says, leaning forward.  "We're struggling, and we need the money.  This is a _pay_ increase on top of an hour increase.  I'll be bringing in so much more money, I'll even get insurance.  We might be able to start talking about... You know...  _Kids_."

"Won't do our metaphorical kids any good if their father's never home."  Derek mutters, crossing his arms.

Stiles closes his eyes, rubbing his forehead with long fingers.

"We're falling apart, Stiles.  We're turning into glorified roommates, and when we got married, you promised that would never happen to us, but I never fucking _see_ you."

Stiles makes a face, "I know, okay?  I can't even remember the last time we had sex."

"Halloween, and even then it was just a blowjob.  The last time we had a good, hard fuck like we used to when this,"  he gestures between the two of them, "was still new, was your birthday.  In April."

The corners of Stiles' mouth drops.  "That long, really?"

Derek nods and Stiles' expression collapses, "I'm sorry, baby.  You have to put up with my shit all the time, I'm just so tired after shifts, even the thought of sex wears me out, I owe you so many lost orgasms."

Derek grabs Stiles' hand where it sits on the table, fidgeting.  "Hey, you don't owe me _anything_ , least of all sex.  I just don't want you to overwork yourself, I'm afraid you might burn yourself out."

"I know, Der, but we _need_ this."

Derek's eyes drop to their linked fingers.  He runs his thumb across Stiles' knuckles, across the Celtic knot decorating his wedding ring.  He closes his eyes and nods.

***

Derek has to fix things with Stiles.  They're drifting apart and it's slowly killing him. 

They met when Stiles was only twenty-one and he, twenty-seven.  When Derek first saw him, first spoke to him, the age difference meant nothing.  After only a few dates, Derek knew that this was the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.  Stiles' laugh alone never fails to bring a complementary smile to his lips.

This needs to be their best Christmas ever, they need to recapture the magic that once sparked so brightly between them.  Derek can't lose his husband to the hustle and bustle of the city.  Derek's parents divorced when he was young, he doesn't want that to happen to Stiles and him.  But he's not an idiot, he knows that giving an amazing gift is not automatically going to fix their relationship, _but_ it couldn't hurt.

So when Derek passes by their neighbourhood pawn shop a few days later, it takes only a brief second of contemplation before he's walking in and pawning off his precious leather jacket for two hundred dollars, cash. 

After that, he it's just as matter of deciding on Stiles' present.  Derek recalls the iPhone, and how much Stiles loves the tiny device.  He settles on a military grade, water-proof and shock-proof case.  Even after dropping a ridiculous amount of money on what the guy at Radio Shack declared would allow a phone to pass through a cow's digestive system and emerge from the other side, unscathed, he still has eighty dollars left.  Enough to buy a fancy Christmas dinner for the both of them, turkey included.

Derek grows happier and excited as Christmas approaches, he almost doesn't even miss the jacket.  He keeps the wrapped gift at the cafe, afraid that Stiles with his innate inquisitiveness will discover it before its time.  Erica grins at him when she sees the present and pulls out her phone intending to show him her gifts to Boyd.  Flipping through her pictures she stops at a collection of items straight from a sex shop.  Derek never wanted to know that edible underwear was a thing.  It just seems like such a waste, considering there are other, more productive, things to eat during sex.  

***

Christmas day comes before he even knows it.  Both of them had to work on the day before, but they managed to get the actual day off this year, lucky for them. 

Derek smiles into the pillow as he wakes up, the feeling of Stiles nosing at the back of his neck sends a shot of arousal down to his groin.  Derek rolls onto his back and his husband smiles down at him, "Hey there, sleepyhead.  Merry Christmas."

Derek stretches out on the bed, happy and content as he scratches at the place where his tee has ridden up, "Merry Christmas, Stiles."  He says, pulling his husband down into a long, involved kiss.  Stiles doesn't seem to care about Derek's morning breath, even through his is minty fresh, he figures it's because it's been so long since they've kissed like this, tongues exploring and teeth nipping.  Stiles keeps letting out these short moans and all Derek wants to do is suggest they remain in bed for a few more hours, but before he can, Stiles pulls away.

"Let's go open presents."  Stiles suggests, lips pink and bitten, before hopping off the bed and tossing a pair of sweats Derek's way.

The concrete floor is chilly even through the fuzzy socks on his feet as he wanders out of their bedroom.  Stiles sits on the couch, his body vibrating with excitement and joy, a lone present sitting in front of him.  They received and opened their presents from family and friends days before.  Christmas is just for them. 

Derek tosses the wrapped phone case into Stiles' lap before collapsing down beside him.  He tucks his feet under Stiles' butt, feeling warmth flood his cold toes.

"Open them at the same time?"  Stiles suggests, dumping his slightly larger box into Derek's arms.  Derek nods, and at Stiles' signal, tears into the wrapping paper, only to stare blankly at what he finds.

An expensive brand of saddle soap and a leather cleaning kit, plus a hundred dollar gift certificate for Saddleman's  leather care and cleaning stares back at him.

A low, amused, but tired chuckle brings Derek out of his state of disbelief.  Glancing up at Stiles, he finds him holding the phone case in one hand, the other pressed to his face, covering his mouth as he laughs.  "Baby, I sold it,"  Stiles says, reaching into his pocket, only to pull out on old phone that looks like it's at least a few years old, scuffs on the body and all.  "I sold the iPhone to buy the stuff for your jacket."

"And I sold the jacket to buy you the case for the iPhone."  Derek collapses down on their raggedy couch.  Running his hand through his hair, his shoulders shake as he starts to laugh, echoing Stiles.  "What perfect cosmic irony."

"The universe does like to keep things interesting,"  Stiles nods, meeting Derek's eyes, a twinkle in his own. "Well, now that gift giving was thwarted, I still have about five hundred dollars left, what say you we take a trip down to Coney Island for the day?"

Derek quirks a brow, "In the middle of winter?"

"We could grab some street meat and eat by the boardwalk?  Just like old times?"

Derek grins, "And like new times."  He grabs Stiles' hand in his, bringing his palm up to his face, kissing it.  "I love you."

Stiles grins, "Ditto, babe."

***

"Hey look!  It's where we first met."

Stiles says pointing out into a stretch of sand along the beach.  All the gazebos are new construction after hurricane Sandy destroyed the old ones, but they built them exactly the same.  Derek wouldn't be able to tell the difference if it wasn't for the lack of graffiti.

"You mean where you first hit me in the face with your volleyball while I was eating a hotdog?"

Stiles laughs, "You can't hold that over me anymore, I bought you a new one, and remember, you told me on our wedding night that the only reason you didn't duck was because you were too busy salivating over my happy trail."

Derek pouts, "I didn't salivate."

Stiles' lips quirk, "Okay, too busy gawking."

Derek shrugs, "Fair enough."

"I know, I'm gawk-worthy,"  Stiles winks.

"You are,"  Derek agrees, smiling when Stiles sputters, blushing red up to his ears.

Stiles rolls his eyes, "Oh jeez, I was joking, you're not supposed to agree."

Derek drags his eyes slowly down Stiles' body, caressing him with his eyes, "Why wouldn't I?  After all, I did marry you for your ass."

"Oh really?  Is that all?"

Derek pretends to think for a long moment, but when Stiles playfully pushes him, he bursts into a bout of laughter.  Stiles leaves his hands resting on Derek's chest.  He can feel the heat of Stiles' mittened hands through Derek's cheap thrift store parka, and it makes him incredibly happy.

"Maybe your excellent cock had something to do with it.  And your mouth, can't forget that,"  Derek reaches out, and swipes his thumb over Stiles' bottom lip.  "Now that I think about it, maybe it was the way you tuck your knees behind mine when you're the big spoon.  Maybe it's because you know I prefer bottoming and you never judged me for it, not even once.  Maybe it's because you ground me, make me feel safe, invincible even.  Maybe it's because right after our first date, all I could think is that this is the man I'm going to fall in love with."  Derek wipes away the moisture gathering at the corners of Stiles' eyes.  "But yeah, your ass was the main reason."

Stiles makes a disbelieving sound in his throat.  "Shut up you fucker, you're making me cry."

"Damn, my plot was foiled."  Derek says, deadpan.

They stare out into the bay, waves splashing against the shore, standing together in a companionable silence.

"Wanna go home?"  Stiles finally asks after a few minutes.  They've spent the whole day at the park, grabbing hotdogs at the surprisingly open Nathan's Famous, but Derek can't wait to go home and spend even more time with the man he loves.

They walk back to the train station, holding hands.

***

Stiles runs to their old box TV and flips to the fireplace channel the moment they open the door.

"Shut up, it's comforting."  Stiles says when he notices Derek's raised brow.

Derek lifts his palms in surrender, "I didn't say anything."

They settle in front of the TV, the blankets from their bed piled beneath them, their single space heater making it seem like the crackle and hissing coming from the TV is the real source of the blast of dry heat.

Derek's tucked under Stiles' arm as they feed each other s'mores made with leftover soda crackers because they didn't have graham crackers.  Honestly, Derek doesn't think it tastes that bad, in fact, it's pretty darn good.

Somehow, Stiles ends up with a bit of marshmallow on his nose so Derek licks it off.  When he pulls back, he finds Stiles staring at him with dark eyes and red cheeks.  Derek leans back in.

The kiss starts off slow, but like their morning kiss, it soon grows until Derek licks fervently into Stiles' mouth while Stiles clutches desperately at the collar of Derek's shirt, tugging at it until the collar stretches beyond repair.

Between one blink and another they end up horizontal, Stiles grinding himself between Derek's spread legs as he mouths at his neck, sucking hickies Derek will be able to feel for days.  Derek can do nothing by try desperately to keep up, moaning and throwing his head back while Stiles pulls a tube of lube from the depths of their blanket nest.  He must have dug it out from the bedside table while fetching the blankets from the bedroom.

Derek grabs him by the hand, and pulls him back on top, close enough to whisper, "fuck me," in his ear, feeling the full body shudder Stiles lets out in lieu of replying.  Stiles seals his mouth to Derek's as he tugs down his sweats.  When the first lubed finger enters him, he bites Stiles' lip.  By the fourth he's nothing but a writhing mess, tugging at his dark hair letting loose moan after moan.  When Stiles hooks his thumbs in his rim, slowly stretching him out, that's it, all bets are off.  He grabs at Stiles' hair until he looks up into Derek's wide eyes.  "Fuck me already."  Derek repeats, "before I come."

Stiles eyes widen, "alright, alright,"  he says huskily, wiping the excess lube from his fingers onto his dick before coating it in even more fresh lube.

Derek pushes Stiles onto his back, and climbs onto him, sitting on his dick.  Derek watches smugly as Stiles' eyes roll back in his head at the first roll of his hips.  Stiles' fingers dig into his hips as he rocks back and forth, hands resting on his pecs.  "Oh fuck,"  Derek groans, "Stiles, oh fuck.  Please, Stiles, fuck me harder, faster." 

Derek hisses unhappily when Stiles chooses to instead pull out of him and push him away.  It's only when he falls onto his butt, Stiles advancing towards him with a _look_ in his eye, dick straining towards the ceiling, that he gets it.  Derek spreads his legs open, biting into his bottom lip when Stiles enters him again in one strong movement, exactly how he likes it.  Hard and rough.  He picks up Derek's legs and drapes them over his shoulders, bending him in half as his hips rabbit. 

"So beautiful, Der, so fucking gorgeous."  Stiles whispers as his fingers dig into muscled thighs, doing exactly what Derek asked of him, fucking him harder, faster.  Derek throws his head back, scrambling for purchase on the blankets, fingers digging in even as Stiles' thrusts jostle any grip he manages to gain hold of.  His back bows and he comes untouched, spurting over both their bellies, yelling out praises to every single deity he can think of.  Stiles quickly pulls out and jacks himself off over Derek as he lies back, watching with orgasm heavy eyes.

Stiles' neck is one long line when he groans, stomach clenching as he adds to the mess of come on Derek's belly.  Stiles collapses beside Derek, chest heaving.  Eventually, he gets up and rummages through the blankets, finding a package of wet wipes, using them to clean the mess between Derek's thighs and on his stomach.

After he comes back from throwing the soiled wipes away, Derek pulls him closer into the warmth of his embrace.  They settle into the warmth of the blankets and each other's arms, knowing that no matter what happens in the future, they'll always have each other, and in the end, that's what's important. 

The next day, Stiles buys back Derek's jacket with the remaining money from his iPhone sale and together they take the jacket to the repair shop.  They return the phone case, and with the money they get back, Stiles buys all the apps he could ever want, turning what was once a mediocre phone into one he's extremely happy with.

Next year, Stiles will get his promotion, and their lives will get even busier.  But come hell or high water, they'll do anything to find a way to make time for each other.  They organize their schedules so they manage to find at least a few hours a week to go out on a date.  Sometimes, they even choose to stay in instead and make use of the gallon sized pump bottle of lube Erica got them as a gift.

***

_And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi._

\- The Gift of the Magi by O. Henry

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering what Derek's jacket looks like, just look up the Prorsum Burberry Leather Biker Jacket, it's the one with the quilted accents on the sleeves, it is forever my headcanon Derek Hale jacket.
> 
> The Gift of the Magi is my favourite Christmas story, I wanted to write a modern day version, but if you want to read the original short story by O. Henry, it's available for free on the public domain :) Happy holidays!


End file.
